"All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind."
~Kahlil Gibran

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Hair

Chris is on staycation this week, and we are trying our best to do things that we wouldn’t ordinarily do. First on our list on Monday? Miles’s first haircut. We’ve been talking about it for a long time now because his hair was getting so close to his eyes and it seemed that the hair around his ears was really bothering him. BUT…Chris was really concerned that getting his hair cut would officially make him a boy and not a baby. I was putting it off because, well, I do that with a lot of things these days. But Groupon pulled me in last week with a coupon, I mean groupon, to a children’s salon here in town. I figured if they cater to kids, there would be a smaller chance that they mess up.

Our appointment was for 4:00 so that Miles could take a nice afternoon nap, but so that it wasn’t so close to dinner that we entered the witching hour. But, as things often go, we were slightly late. It happens when Miles holds his own bottle.

When we arrived, there was a sign directing us to the front desk (if a sign needs to direct me, it must mean it is not in the front of the store). On my way to the so-called front desk, I noticed that there was an awfully lot of hair on the floor. I get that it’s a hair salon, but shouldn’t they be cleaner because it caters to kids?

Anyhow, the receptionist asked and if we had an appointment, and as I was answering in the affirmative, one of the stylists chimed in with, “Yes, at 4:00. It’s 4:09, but I guess we’ll keep it.”

She never once looked up at me. Just talked to the receptionist as if they were in a back room gossiping about the new clients that dared to be 9 minutes late. You’re telling me that no one is ever late taking their kid to a haircut? And it’s not as if they were super busy. But, it’s their business, not mine. Perhaps as a punishment, we were made to wait for the three other kids to get their hair cut first.

We did this:

Waiting for three others worked in our favor because then I didn’t have to interact with the stylist that was so offended by our tardiness. When it was our turn, Miles was strapped into some sort of automobile and immediately got to work driving (and admiring himself in the mirror).

We wasn’t quite sure what to make of the apron that was tied around him because it made his hands hard to locate, but other than that, he didn’t seem to care that someone to cutting off his beautiful hair. Especially since the stylist let him chew on a hair clip. I’m sure that I should have been worried about the cleanliness of the clip, but because Miles likes to lick the bottom of people’s shoes, a hair clip isn’t my biggest concern.